"Sit Still, Look Pretty?" Bless Your Heart.

"Happy Disability Pride Month, like every month is!" to every disabled woman who refuses to dim her light. You weren’t made to blend in; you were born to be seen, to be heard, and to help make room for more. More dignity. More accessibility. More truth. More joy. There’s space for you here. Let your light shine before others, that they may see the goodness of God in you. (Matthew 5:16) 

July was Disability Pride Month, and let me just say this loud and clear: I wasn’t put on this earth to sit still, stay quiet, or just look pretty. And if that ruffles some feathers? Good. Let’s pluck a few while we’re here.

You’d be surprised how often people tell me, sometimes with words, sometimes with silence, that I’m “too much.” Too opinionated. Too confident for someone with a disability. Too vocal for someone who uses a device to speak.

In their minds, I’m supposed to play small. Smile sweetly. Blend in. Be grateful just to be included.

But here’s the thing: I’m here to make change. And real change rarely comes wrapped in politeness.

I’ve spent enough of my life watching people avoid eye contact, speak over me, or assume I need someone else to speak on my behalf. I’ve heard the soft prejudice of lowered expectations dressed up as concern. I’ve been in rooms where my seat at the table felt conditional, where I was invited to be present, but not heard. I don’t shrink to fit a space that was never built with me in mind.

I’ve learned that when I show up fully, AAC in hand, purpose in my bones, joy in my spirit, it permits others to do the same. That matters.

But I’m not an afterthought. Fearfully and wonderfully made, on purpose, with purpose.

My AAC doesn’t make me less. It doesn’t hold me back. It slows the world down long enough to actually hear me, and when I speak, I make sure every word carries weight.

I’ve been told to tone it down. To stop asking for too much.To “just be thankful.”

But I’ve also seen what happens when disabled women stop asking for permission. We shake systems. We challenge assumptions. We claim space that was always ours to begin with.

Jesus flipped tables. Me? I shake them just enough to make room for more. More voices. More stories. More seats at the table. Sometimes, more truth than ya'll were ready for.

Because I wasn’t made to sit still and look pretty. I was made to light up rooms with lived experience, steady faith, and an unapologetic kind of presence that lingers long after I leave.

God didn’t create me to be quiet background noise. He created me to speak life. carry light into places that didn’t expect to see it shining from someone like me. To hold space for others and remind them, they’re not too much.

And at the end of the day, when the world feels loud and the weight of advocacy feels heavy, I light a candle. Not for aesthetics but for peace. The kind that settles deep in your chest and whispers, You showed up. You spoke up. You stayed true. That’s more than enough.

So no, I won’t sit still. I won’t play small. I won’t keep quiet to make others comfortable.

I’ll keep showing up bold, faithful, and full of fire. Because my disability is not a burden or a story to hide. It’s a calling. A testimony. God’s not finished writing it yet.